Captain Courage: Fear and Rage
by Jantrix
Summary: This is an origin story that was originally done for a fellow SG member, but much to my disappointment never gave a word of thanks or appreciation and soon left the game. So I have changed the names and posted it as a fan fiction. Please leave a review.


Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
Captain Courage wearily glided in to land before the open sewer grate. His costume was torn in several locations, a tuft of hair jutted from a rend above his left ear. All in all the task force had gone well. He and the other Defenders had stopped a near catastrophe from occurring tonight. He leaned a moment against the cool concrete wall and grinned when he recalled how he and the others, Bayne, Exodus, Pretty Kitty, Rael, Crazy Ace, Korpershutz, Liquidus and Red Switchblade, had cleaved through the Malta defenses and destroyed the weapons cache that was about to hit the streets. He shuddered to think about the ramifications of the Sapper weaponry getting into the hands of criminals all over the city.

Courage shook his head, to clear the cobwebs. "That's funny I can still hear the whistle of those missiles from the Zeus mechs. I must have gotten hit a little harder than I thought."  
When the sound got louder, it only took a second for him to realize that what he was hearing wasn't a lingering effect, but the real thing. Also the sound wasn't from a particular direction but rather, from many directions. "A coordinated attack. Just wonderful."

In a blink he took to the air and pressed to get some altitude, to get above the buildings. He saw the incoming missiles arc to match his assent, and knew that it wasn't going to happen. Sixty feet off the ground, the sextet of surface to air missiles struck him within milliseconds of each other. The windows of the surrounding buildings blew in, a hailstorm of razor shards, shredding into people unlucky enough to be nearby. Their screams echoed in Captain Courage's ears as he hit the ground. Barely conscious, he rolled to his knees. Through the ringing in his ears, he made out the sound of footsteps.

"Hmm. Your secret hideaway is in the sewers?" A cold chilling laugh cut the air between them like a blade. "How utterly ironic."  
Spitting a wad of blood onto the pavement, Courage looked up at his tormentor to find a masked man, clothed in red, a black trench coat flapping in the breeze. 'Who…….are you?"

The man before him spoke. "All good things come to those who wait. And I have waited so very long for my good things. So now shall you." With that, he delivered a terrible blow to Captain Courage's aching head, and he faded into darkness.

Chapter 2  
"Tell me about your past. Who did you love? Who loves you? What has broken your heart? Who named someone as pitiful as you, hero?"

The questions swirled through Courage's brain like debris circling a drain after a storm. And they pressed him. Though he fought, the questions brought forth memories. That, he could not prevent. The jewelry store. Katie. The blood. The rage. Oh God, Katie.

In his mind's eye he saw his adoptive parents, Jim Burke and his wife Isabelle. They had given him the name John and raised him until he was 12. It was a loveless place. John knew that he was an adopted child, but from where and why he'd never learned. Jim was a soldier and the things he had seen and done had hollowed him, like rot in an old tree. For Isabelle the heartbreak of her miscarriages made her cold toward John. He was not hers, therefore not a child for her. John learned early to do for himself.

"At least you had a home, you ungrateful pig."

The Rikti war. The Burke's died in the first weeks of the onslaught, the victim of some alien biological weapon. John had not been affected.

"I wonder why that might have been, eh?"

John lived for a year in a shelter, like many of those left homeless and after the war, was placed in a state home along with many orphaned children. He did not miss the Burke's he'd realized. They held no place in his heart. No one did. Until Katie. Katie McClain.

"Ah, now we are getting to the good parts. The juicy bits. Heh."

He and Katie had met in the state home. They were drawn to each other for reasons that John couldn't know, but thanked God for. Katie had lost a loving home, and John had long been denied such. They were that for each other. For five years they grew as close as any brother and sister. Closer. Though it was unspoken, they both knew. It was the greatest time John had even known.

"I am vindicated! My actions are justified! Vengeance ever be swift!"

Katie and he had to hide their feelings at home, so they frequently took long walks through town, sometimes even holding hands when they thought no one they knew would see them. As they passed a jewelry store, Katie said, "Lets go in."  
As if by magic that all women seem to possess, Katie seemed to glide in to end up unerringly at the counter that had the engagement rings. "What do you want to look at these for," John asked. Katie turned to him with a smile that made his heart thump like a base drum and his stomach fall into his feet. "Oh, no reason really. Just dreaming."  
A mirror on the counter made sure John could see just how red his face had turned.  
"Just dreaming."

"I will flay the skin from your bones for this!"

He would always remember her face at this moment. Beauty untouched by time forever. It was all she would leave him. The sacred silence of the moment was shattered by the muffled sounds of gunfire, the mist of powdered brick, and the whisper of speeding bullets. John threw himself in front of Katie as quick as thought. But the bullets were faster. Before they hit the ground Katie was dead. Even as he fell he knew it. As the bullets struck his back, he was relieved. They would not be parted. But they were.

"Victims. Aren't we all?"

It quickly became clear to John that he wasn't shot. He found the bullet holes in his shirt, but no wound. His grief washed over him like a wave. Within the grief was a spark of anger. The sound of gunshots stoked the spark and the spark became a flame. A bonfire of rage took John away, carrying him like a leaf on a breeze. It took him through the wall. It took him to find the gunmen. And when it subsided, as a wave or a flame must, it left him only with his grief. The media called him a hero, truly courageous.

Chapter 3

The man in red spoke to his men. "Tear his mind apart. He has twenty-five years of hell to make up for."  
The small one was called Fugue. Skilled in the use of mind altering drugs, he also had the ability to project thoughts and memories into the human mind, as natural as if you'd thought of them yourself. And then he could read your minds response to the idea. He was a master of interrogation.  
The other man was tall and thin, and he wore a grinning skull mask that seemed oddly appropriate. He called himself Limbo. He would add darkness to the equation, to bring terror to the manipulations of Fugue. He was insanity incarnate, and though he worked for the man in red, he had no master but Death itself. This job was perfect, because he still got to do what he loved, and it kept him off the streets. Bad things happened when he roamed. Many superheroes were after him for what he had done in the library. It really hadn't been his fault. Death wanted them. It was as easy as that.

Fugue and Limbo set to their task. The man in red turned before leaving the room.  
"I'll have coffee sent in. Feel free to get creative. I appreciate true artistic expression."

Inside his world of grief, Captain Courage heard his echoing laughter as he left the room.  
For weeks the two villains invaded Captain Courage's mind. Twisting and turning the knives in his brain. Living and reliving the death of Katie, the death of his friends, the death of people he never had never known but nevertheless loved. They created new versions of John/ Captain Courage, gave him new memories, new loved ones, and then they brought the whisper of bullets all over again. Time and again they shredded him, tore him down. He lived in a sea of anguish and grief. But inside the grief, there was a spark.

"Damn it Skullface, I'm tired and I have a serious Excedrin headache. I'm gonna take a break. The drugs will keep him down. Too bad we need a titanium needle to puncture his damn hide though. They're damn hard to come by."  
"Don't call me Skullface, you little dipdo-do! I've told you that a thousand times! Do it again and see what happens. You won't find the tendrils so funny. Friggin' twerp."  
Captain Courage heard Fugue's laughter. It was time. The flame had indeed burned hot. It had burned though the drugs in his body and now he was going to let it loose.

Mankind, in its basic essence, is that which he has learned. Thousands of years of morality, technology, religion and civility have suppressed instinct, cunning, the capacity to kill and other lower brain functions. But when the man is destroyed, all that he has learned to be is lost. All that remains is what man is underneath it all- an animal.

Although at the time Courage was in no mood for grins when he sat up and tore his arms from the metal restraints, in the years that followed, the animal part of him would smile when he remembered the looks on Fugue and Limbo's faces. Eyes wide and mouths turned in ovals of awe, they didn't even have time to utter the requisite "Oh do-do."  
In a blur of movement, Captain Courage's hand shot out and grasped the expensive, hard to find, titanium syringe.  
People are always in awe of the damage someone with supernatural strength can inflict with a punch or a kick. What many don't imagine is what a superhuman person can do with some light mundane item with just a flick of the wrist.  
As if pondering the mysteries of life, both Fugue and Limbo stared with amazement at the quarter sized hole straight through Limbo's chest. Limbo looked up and gasped, "Damn Fugue, I've never………"  
Captain Courage's hand shot out and snatched Fugue by the throat, as the latter watched his companion slide to the floor. Eyes blazing, Courage spoke. "Unlock my feet."  
Fugue's speed was rendered superhuman by his fear. Captain Courage stood. "Don't you want to know where he is?" Fugues voice cracking as he spoke.  
"No."  
As Captain Courage stepped from the small white room, he dropped Fugue's body by the doorjamb.

Courage was pretty sure the man in red would be returning soon, so he decided to make good use of the time. Gliding required less energy than walking, in his condition he would need every ounce he had. Nearly starved for weeks, nourishment was first on the priority list. He did a cursory sweep of the area. He appeared to be in a bunker of some sort. Underground most likely considering the arched ceiling and doorways of ancient red brick.. His "treatment" cell had been at the end of a long room. A recent addition of plywood and lumber. The rest of the room seemed a hodgepodge of laboratory, barracks and an extensive library.  
A lucky discovery was a stocked refrigerator, hidden in an alcove. A carton of orange juice and a few bananas were all he had time for. He also noted a collection of drugs and medicines in the antiquated refrigerator. It was the library he needed to see. It was there answers would be found. He didn't know how he knew that, but he did. He walked to the ancient desk that dominated the area. Rows and rows of books lined the walls. There was quite variety of subjects. Philosophy, art, poetry, science, mathematics. There were a LOT of medical books, but they seemed to have years worth of dust on them, where the rest seemed relatively well handled.  
Upon the desk was a large stack of modern paperbacks, viciously worn and dog-eared, and beneath, a large leather-bound journal. Embossed upon the cover was a name- Johan David Stark. For some reason the name sounded familiar, but he couldn't put a finger on it. "No surprise," Captain Courage thought, "I'm not even quite sure of my own name at this point." His memories were all a tangled mess.  
He opened the journal and began to read. What he read filled him with dread.

Project Titan  
The superhumans will soon rule our world. It is the natural order of things. The mighty overthrow the weak. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. This can not be allowed, it will not be allowed. I will see to it. The gods of ancient Greece ruled from Mount Olympus. Only the titans opposed them. I will create an army of titans to oppose these new gods. These demons that seek to enslave all mankind! I have seen the future, and it will be grim unless something is done.  
I am the Creator! My will be done!

The experiments that followed Stark's preface read like a "how to make a monster" manual. Dr. Frankenstein would have approved. He read on. Experiment after experiment. The book ended at experiment 43. It began, "Homeless woman: pregnant 2 mos." And went on to describe the procedures applied to her over nearly 7 months.. Tears welled in Courage's eyes. The last line for the experiment caught his attention. "Twins. Two boys. Subjects 44 and 45. Subject 43, deceased." Below the last experiment was a brief message, hastily written.

April 18, 1981  
Soldiers have taken the laboratory. I was able to save my notes and Subject 45. Proceeding to secondary hideaway. I will persevere yet!  
JDS

A sudden sound brought Captain Courage to his feet, and he whirled to see a side door open and a woman in a filthy nurses uniform emerge with a silver tray. She was quite startled by Courage's presence. "You're free?!" she whispered. A secret hope she had held in her heart, come true. In an eye blink she dropped to the floor, at his feet, sobs of relief wracking her body. "I'm a prisoner here too. They keep me to care for the old man." She motioned through the doorway with her right hand the other covering her face. Courage looked through the doorway, into the chamber beyond.  
"Stay here."

Courage hovered through the doorway. Inside was a small bedroom barely bigger than a closet. On the filthy bed, was a small wrinkled old man. He was terribly emaciated and he was connected to an oxygen system. Brown blotches and open sores covered much of his wracked body. He looked at Courage without any fear.  
"The prodigal son has returned, I see."

Courage ignored the jibe. "You are Stark?"

The man laughed. "Yes. I am Stark, the great Creator. Rarely has any life become such folly as mine."

"I am one of the two boys born in experiment 43?"

"Yes. You were subject 44, the firstborn. A great failure you turned out to be."

"And the man in the red mask?"

"Your brother, Cronus. Named such for the leader of the ancient titans. He is my spearhead. He will see my dream come to fruition. He will see the new gods torn from Olympus, and shattered on the ground." A fit of thick fluid coughing followed this.

"What was my mothers name?" Courage asked, his voice becoming a low growl.  
Stark sharply quipped, "Don't know, never cared. She was just some vagrant. In retrospect though, I should have taken a better class of folk for my work. If I had, I would not now be dying of the AID's virus. It's funny somehow, how a simple poke from a needle can doom you or save you. Are you going to arrest me now?"  
When Stark spoke the last, there was small smile on his face. It was hope. He wished to be rescued from this squalor, now after all he had done.  
"No." Captain Courage turned and left the room.

Outside the room, he spoke to the young nurse. "How do I leave this place?"  
She replied quickly "Through that way sir." Indicating an adjacent doorway. "But watch out, there are still three more of Cronus' men guarding the exit."  
A grim smile played over Courage's face. "That works." When Courage and the girl stepped though the door, Stark began to scream.

Captain Courage sat quietly amid the rubble that once was a marvelous city. He'd heard they planned to rebuild Faultline. He hoped it was true. Courage looked down at his tattered uniform, and smiled. His mind was slowly beginning to piece together his life from the jumble within. He knew who he was, and what he had to do.  
A broken piece of wall shifted nearby and Cronus stepped from a buried sewer grate. He'd apparently found the note that Courage had left on the unconscious form of Wildthorn. He now wore a costume but for the colors, was identical to Captain Courage's own.  
"It looks good in red on black, Cronus."  
Cronus stopped. He glanced around, uncertainly. To find his quarry so close to the sewer entrance, made him pause. "He's out of his element," Courage thought.  
With a toss of his head, Cronus banished his trepidation and advanced on Captain Courage who sat unmoving thirty feet away. "I'm going to kill you slowly."  
"Why?" Courage replied briefly.  
This also stopped Cronus short. "You know why," he said with a growl.  
"No Cronus, I don't. I don't know you at all. You never tried to contact me, though you obviously knew I existed."  
"YOU KNEW!" Cronus fairly jumped in his rage. "THE SOLDIER BURKE! HE ADOPTED YOU! HE TOLD YOU! JOHAN TOLD ME SO!  
With effort, Cronus brought himself under control. Pointing to the hole he'd stepped from he spoke, "I've spent my entire life, in those sewers. Amid the filth, and the forgotten. The vile and the corrupt. You never came for me. The great hero." A vicious sneer creased Cronus' face like a black scar. "Stark told me about your wonderful life and great success, your friends, your family. He told me that he had contacted you himself and that you ignored him. And me." The last two words were a whisper.  
Captain Courage shook his head sadly. "He lied to you brother. He took advantage of your ignorance and your fear, for his own ends."

Cronus snarled. "I fear NOTHING!"

"I spoke briefly to the nurse, Cronus. You never went outside , you always sent others. For supplies, information, always your cronies. Never you."

"I LIVED IN HELL! AND YOU! I SAW YOU IN THE NEWSPAPERS! I SAW YOUR FACE!"

Cronus reached up and tore off his mask and glared at Captain Courage. His face was identical to Courage's, but his horrific life and his rage had etched it, twisted it. He looked haggard, worn.

"You cannot know the pain, the misery of my life. But I will see you feel a pain for every day of it."  
Again, Courage was unaffected by Cronus' hatred. "Yet, you could have left the sewers at any time. You could have come out and found me yourself"

Cronus stared, his mouth open, "I couldn't…………..the old man…………the mission……….new gods."

"Your agoraphobic, brother. I saw the library. I know you're an educated man. The old madman, at least saw to that. You know what agoraphobia is. The fear of open spaces. The fear of outside."

Courage saw his brothers face twist, and he knew what was coming. He saw his own rage. It was clear that the madman's experiments, had indeed a few bugs. Both he and his brother suffered from a phobia, and both of them had to quell the rage within on a constant basis.

Cronus rushed at Captain Courage, his eyes glowing red, his mouth agape. "I FEAR NOTHING! YOU LEAST OF ALL!

Captain Courage didn't move, he just sat there, a look of pity on his face. When Cronus was nearly upon Courage, a movement beyond caught Cronus' eye. About forty feet behind Captain Courage was a man amid the rubble. A man with red hair, in a green and white uniform. His body was leaned back, his right arm out, supported by his left and a grin upon his face.

"You brought……"Cronus babbled in amazement.

"Friends. Yes."

Exodus' sniper blast took Cronus full in the face, and it staggered him. Energy and cold blasts rocked him from all sides. A psychic lance tore through his mind, bringing Cronus screaming to his knees. Captain Courage rose unsteadily and approached his brother. "I'm sorry brother, but I couldn't find any rocket launchers to return the favor. I had to improvise."  
Captain Courage found the last bits of energy in his body and focused them now. As Cronus staggered to his feet, he was met by a barrage of punches, thrown by a man who knew how to do it. How to take a man down, to cripple his defenses. To win……….no matter what.

Cronus fought back, but for all his bluster he was unskilled, untrained. He fought like a brawler, relying purely on his great strength. Captain Courage had learned long ago, that you either learned to fight well or you died. Blow after tremendous blow Cronus dealt only to be turned, blocked, deflected. Captain Courage was weak, it was all he could do to defend himself. The blows he dealt were calculated, precise. Nerve strikes, pressure points, joints strikes. All required minimal power to be effective. And they did their work well.

In two minutes time, Cronus lay on the ground, beaten. Every nerve and muscle screamed in protest. Parts of his body wouldn't move at all.  
"What…….now……………John?" Cronus sputtered, his lips torn and bleeding.  
As his fellow Defenders slowly walked up, Captain Courage settled slowly to the ground near his brother. "Boy, I'm gonna feel this in the morning," he thought.

"Now…..you will stand accountable for the kidnapping of the nurse and the maiming of the people at the site of the rocket attack. That much is certain. What else happens during that time is up to you."  
"What….do you…mean?" Cronus whispered.  
"Truth and forgiveness, brother. It's all we have, and it's past time for both.


End file.
